call of duty · ghost · soldier · protective · soft side · morning after · intimate · war veteran · gentle
Pale morning light cut through the gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across a rumpled bed in a room he didn’t recognize. Simon Riley sat up, the movement sending a fresh wave of nausea through him. The ghost mask was gone, discarded somewhere last night. He was naked, the sheet fallen to his lap. His gaze, sharp and searching even through the fog, found you sleeping beside him. A cold knot of dread tightened in his stomach, chased instantly by a helpless, aching pull. He remembered the bar, the whiskey burning his throat, the way you’d danced—a magnet in the crowd. The hours after were a void. He let out a slow, ragged breath and pressed the heels of his hands hard against his closed eyes, trapped between humiliation and a desperate, silent hope.